


I'm Fixin' My Mind, But I'm Fuckin' It Up

by TheVagabondBoy



Series: Shoot the Sunshine into My Veins [7]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angry Frank Castle, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Arguing, Break Up, Breaking Up & Making Up, Bullying, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Heavy Angst, Hurt Frank Castle, Hurt Matt Murdock, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Making Up, Matt Murdock Angst, Matt Murdock Needs a Hug, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Past Matt Murdock/Elektra Natchios, Past Violence, Psychosomatic pain/injury, Repercussions of bullying, Self-Doubt, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Self-Worth Issues, Temporary Hearing Loss, Triggers, Verbal Abuse, i dont like elektra, past bullying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-15 16:49:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12324969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheVagabondBoy/pseuds/TheVagabondBoy
Summary: Matt is in pain.He doesn't know why somethingso smallhurtsso much.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Title from:  
> Black & Blue, by The White Buffalo
> 
> This idea was given to me by the wonderful and amazing and lovely [blackcoffeecastle](https://blackcoffeecastle.tumblr.com/), who mentioned to me the reaction Matt had to a comment Elektra made in S02E05, that was likely meant to be throw-away. She noted how when Elektra said Matt was 'pretty, but dumb', it really seemed like Matt internalized that comment (and based on this, had likely internalized several similar comments previously in his life).  
> So based on the conversation that followed, this was born! Hope you enjoy, and that I don't hurt you too bad!

They’d been together for six months when it happened.

They’d been together for six months when Frank said something that got to Matt, and Matt realized that maybe Matt wasn’t as okay in the head as he thought he was.

It started with a fight, about something that happened on patrol; Matt caught wind of a robbery in progress, some small bodega being held up by an idiot with a gun. They happened to moving together at the time, so why not bust it up together?

It went south.

Matt tried to talk the would-be robber down. He could smell the heroin in his veins. Could tell he was strung out as hell, looking for money to get another hit. Could tell he didn’t mean to hurt anyone. That he was just a guy with an addiction, who needed some help. Matt tried to tell him to come with him; there was a clinic just a few blocks away, one that was used to dealing with addicts who wanted to recover.

_ And the guy was listening! _ He was listening, and lowering the gun, hands shaky from that desperate  _ need _ for a fix.

Then he saw Frank.

He probably wouldn’t even have taken a shot at either of them.  _ He was just scared. _ He saw the gun in Frank’s hand and got scared, and raised his own.

So Frank shot him.

The addict went down, dead before he hit the ground.

Matt told the bodega cashier to call the cops, then they left. They didn’t talk about it. Not right away. Matt let Frank lead the way. When he wasn’t looking, Matt slipped away. He...needed a minute.

*

Frank was already at the apartment when Matt got there, an hour or so before sunrise.

He was in the kitchen, heating up leftovers and sipping on a beer.

“Hey.” he said, as Matt shuffled down the stairs from the roof.

Matt didn’t answer. He headed for the closet. Started getting out of the suit.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Frank asked.

He was moving over to Matt. He leaned on the wall beside the closet. Matt could feel his eyes on him as he put the suit away. It had been a few hours since they saw each other last. Matt rubbed at his eyes. He might be blind, but the world-on-fire still made his eyes tired somehow.

“Why’d you run off?” Frank questioned. “Thought maybe you heard somethin’ else, but...you didn’t say nothin’.”

Matt grabbed the sweatpants and the t-shirt he’d left near the chest, putting them on as he got up. He closed the closet, then headed for the kitchen.

_ “Hey. _ Baby?” Frank said, following. “I’m talkin’ to you, Red.”

“I’m blind, not deaf.” Matt hummed, while he opened the freezer to find an ice pack.

He wrapped it quickly in one of the hand towels, then rested it over the knuckles on his left hand. He’d thrown a rough left hook; it knocked the guy out, but made Matt’s hand ache like hell.

Frank snorted at him. He threw the microwave open and snatched his plate of food out, setting it down on the kitchen island. He stabbed a fork into the mound of two days old Chinese food, and nudged the plate towards Matt.

“Coulda fooled me.” he said with a sigh. “What’s got you in a tizzy this time, Red?”

“A tizzy?” Matt repeated.  _ “A fucking tizzy?!” _

Frank dodged the ice pack when Matt threw it at him.

“I’m in  _ a tizzy?!” _ he shouted, but was sensible enough to lower his voice after that. “You shot him.  _ You killed him.” _

Frank sighed. The ice crunched as he picked the pack off the floor.

“Yes, I did.” he said, tossing the ice pack back at Matt, who ignored it and let it hit the floor again. “He had a gun on us, so yeah, I shot him.”

“You didn’t have to  _ kill _ him.”

Matt was almost as surprised at how soft his own voice was at that.

“He didn’t have to die. He was listening to me, Frank. He was gonna come willingly.”

The marine sighed, shaking his head. “You don’t know that.” he said. “What I  _ know, _ is that he had a gun and he was pointin’ it at you. So hell yeah, I shot him.”

“First of all, yes,  _ I do know.” _ Matt responded. “I could hear it on him. He didn’t  _ want _ to hurt anyone, Frank! He was a guy with a heroin addiction! All he wanted in life was  _ more heroin! _ But he was  _ listening to me! _ Then  _ you _ freaked him out! The only reason he pointed the gun at  _ me, _ was  _ you!” _

Frank scoffed.  _ “Oh, fuck you, _ you think you know everythin’ just ‘cause you got some  _ magic hearing, _ or some shit?” he said, making an obvious mockery of Matt.

“Oh, don’t you  _ dare _ make fun of me right now!” the blind man hissed, but that didn’t stop Frank.

“What  _ I _ know, is that it don’t matter who the hell the guy was! He had a gun on you!  _ He coulda killed you! _ Coulda killed that fuckin’ clerk!” the marine argued. “So what am I supposed to do, Matty? Huh?  _ Apologize? _ Fine!  _ I’m sorry I saved your life!” _

_ “Saved my life?!” _ Matt shouted. “Oh, please! Don’t start that  _ shit _ with me! Don’t try to put the blame on  _ me! _ You  _ always _ do that! Fucking grow up, and take responsibility for your actions, Castle! You killed a man, and you had no reason,  _ no right _ to do it!”

“Oh,  _ come on!” _ Frank said, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “I was tryin’ to protect  _ you,  _ Matt! He had  _ a gun! _ He coulda  _ shot you!” _

Matt scoffed. “And he couldn’t have shot you?” he asked. “Don’t act all fucking high and mighty with me, Frank! You’re just as human as I am! Stop trying to pack me up in bubble-wrap!”

“That’s not what I’m-” Frank tried.

“No, no, no, it’s  _ exactly _ what you’re doing.” Matt refused. “It’s what  _ everyone _ does! Everyone tries to just protect me, but I don’t need to be protected! I did this  _ long _ before you started your crusade, and  _ I’m still here!” _

God, he was so fucking  _ mad! _ Why the hell was Frank treating him like this? Like he was as fragile as a damn child? Of all people in the world, getting this  _ shit _ from Frank? That was maybe the worst thing about this. That Frank was trying to push this idea that he was  _ protecting Matt, _ and using  _ that _ to justify a man’s death. It made Matt fucking sick.

“But just because I’m fucking blind, you get to go out and be all fucking  _ urban warfare crime daddy _ to the whole fucking city and I’m supposed to, what?” he questioned. “Sit here and be your quiet little  _ housewife? _ Someone you come home to, who washes your clothes and makes your dinner and spreads their legs for you whenever  _ you _ want it?”

Frank groaned like this fight was killing him, hands rubbing over his face. “Would you stop being so fucking  _ stupid _ for two fucking seconds?!” he shouted. “I didn’t have a fuckin’ choice! He coulda killed  _ you! _ Was I supposed to just fuckin’  _ let him?!” _

It got to Matt.

_ Stop being so fucking stupid! _

It was like nails on a blackboard. A record scratching to a stop. He didn’t even know  _ why _ it got to him. Why was  _ that _ so bad? It felt like it cut him to his core, and he didn’t understand why.

Suddenly, he just felt so...powerless. Like he  _ was _ just being stupid, and overreacting, and being a dick about it for no reason. He felt like he was as blind as he looked, trying to navigate an unfamiliar pitch black world without a cane, without a guide. He felt small and lost and confused and weak, and it made him feel  _ sick. _ Why did he feel like that?

_ Stop being so fucking stupid! _

“Get out.”

His voice was as small as he felt.

“What?” Frank bit.

Matt wasn’t sure if it was because he hadn’t heard Matt, or if he just couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

Tears were filling Matt’s eyes; it was hard to breathe, and his hands were shaking, and he was sure he was going to throw up, and the world was spinning around him.

He crossed the space between them, and shoved Frank. It didn’t do much. Frank barely lost his balance. Matt was  _ too weak. _

“Get out. Get out!” he said again, shoving Frank another time. “Get out!  _ Just get out!” _

“Matt? What’s wrong? Why you cryin’, baby? What the hell’s goin’ on?”

At least he was moving back when Matt pushed him.

_ “Get out!” _ Matt kept shouting, and kept shoving.

He didn’t want Frank there! Didn’t want him there at all! He was too weak, couldn’t let anyone see him like this, he was supposed to be strong and smart and go head first into every fight, but...but  _ fuck, _ he wasn’t all that. He was weak and stupid and a coward and he wanted to hide! Hide, and never come out again!

_ “Get out! Leave! Go!” _

Shaking hands fisted in Frank’s shirt, and he tried his hardest to  _ drag him _ to the door.

“Matt, baby, tell me what’s wrong.” he said instead, stumbling along with Matt. “Baby, something’s wrong with you, sunshine, talk to me.”

Matt could barely hear him. They made it to the hall. Frank seemed too confused to really understand what was happening. Matt slammed the door behind him, locked and bolted it.

_ Fuck, he couldn’t breathe. Every inhale stung like knives in his chest, and the exhales felt like acid pouring out of his mouth down his neck and over his chest, burning through his skin. _

There was pounding on the door behind him.

“Matty! Baby, c’mon, open up.” Frank pleaded. “Just...tell me what’s wrong? ‘Cause I can tell somethin’s up with you! I wanna help, baby...”

_ No, no, no, he didn’t want to help, he was just- just trying to get back inside, a-and be more mad at Matt, and Matt couldn’t take it! Stupid, idiot Matt, so weak. _

He had to follow the wall to get back to the kitchen. His ears were ringing, the world-on-fire was blurring in and out of focus, he couldn’t tell where he was in his own fucking home.

“Baby, please, open the door.” Frank continued outside, knocking on the door. “Somethin’s goin’ on, I can tell. Please, sunshine, I just wanna help...”

Why was this happening? Why, why, why? Matt’s head was spinning. He was so  _ scared, _ and he didn’t know why. Fear just loomed over him like a cloud made of lead, weighing him down. The ringing in his ears got louder, more piercing, with every ragged breath he took. He leaned on the kitchen island, clutching the counter for dear life. It felt like if he let go, he’d float away and be sucked into the black hole of nothingness.

“Matt? Don’t do this to me, baby. Please? Please, let me in? Can you...can you say  _ the thing?” _

He didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to move. His hands were shaking, the world flickered, the ringing felt like knives cutting through his brain.

_ Oh, no...no, no, no, no, not again, please, not again! _

Like flipping a switch, everything went dark.

He could see nothing, he could hear nothing, everything went dark.

He froze where he stood.

_ Oh, God, please, God, no, not again, not now, please, no... _

He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t get air into his lungs. His eyes stung with tears.

Where was he again? Which way was right, which way was left? What happened?

He was just... _ standing. _ In darkness, and absolute silence. He couldn’t even hear the hum of blood pulsing in his ears, or his own breathing. There was no sound at all, just like-...just like the time  _ Frank shot him in the head. _

Matt’s knees folded under him, slowly. He clung to the counter, feeling the smooth laminate counter-top and the wood panels on the sides, until he found the floor. His hands felt over the floorboards, he had to find his way, find somewhere safe to hide, couldn’t be in the open, too dangerous, too exposed, always too exposed like this, so weak, blind and deaf and dumb and scared as hell.

The barstools at the kitchen island, he felt the legs, long and spindly, one chair and the next close by its side, fuck, did he tip them? Shit, they was on the floor, he could feel the legs lay flat against the floor now, what happened?  _ Ow! What was that, what hurt, what hurt him, what did that, what happened, oh, God, oh, no, please, no, what happened? _

Something, something rough against his fingertips. What was it, what had he found? Rough, hard, rectangular, and...something thin and even rougher in-between.  _ Bricks, _ the brick wall, yes, that was safe, back to the wall, no one could sneak up on him, breathe, just breathe. His heart pounded, he could feel it punching out against his ribcage. It felt like it was about to explode in his chest.

_ Stop being so fucking stupid! _

_ Stop being so fucking stupid! _

_ Stop being so fucking stupid! _

_ Stop being so fucking stupid! _

 

That voice, her voice echoed in his head, like something from a distant, far away world, spoken in a language he didn’t  _ quite _ understand but could make out enough of. Why was she in his head?  _ Elektra, _ whispering in his ear.

_ Dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, stupid, stupid, stupid, don’t be stupid, you’re lucky you’re so pretty, pretty, but dumb, stupid, stupid, dumb! _

Why? Why was she whispering to him like that? It was her voice and a hundred others, screaming and whispering in his ears, he hated the sound of their voices when they said those words, all these mean and cruel words, and he didn’t understand  _ why _ they were screaming all these things at him and it made him feel so weak, even weaker than he already was, and he was bad and stupid and dumb and  _ so weak, _ blind and deaf and dumb and scared and lost and stupid,  _ lucky he was pretty because no one would care about him if he wasn’t. _

*

“Matt? Baby, I know you can hear me.” Frank tried for the hundredth time, resting his forehead against the door. “Baby, please...”

Why wasn’t he answering?

Yeah, they’d been fighting, sure, but...there was something more. Matt had been fine, then he just...looked scared and confused, so suddenly. And he kicked Frank out and slammed the door, and wouldn’t listen to him.

It made Frank scared. What was wrong? Did  _ he _ do something? Did he say something? Had he hurt Matt in some way? He just wanted to know, so he could apologize and fix it and make it better. And even if it wasn’t his fault, he just wanted to  _ be there, _ wanted to help in whatever way Matt needed, be there and support him and help him and hold him for as long as Matt needed it.

He sat down on the floor, leaning his back against the door.

If he just waited, Matt would open up. If Matt could just hear him wait outside,  _ trying _ to be there for him, Matt would understand that Frank wanted nothing but to help. Sure, Frank could break down the door no sweat, that was no problem. But...as badly as he wanted to be there for Matt, he didn’t want to force himself into the situation. That wouldn’t make anything better. If he pushed too hard, Matt would just push him further  _ away, _ which was the last thing Frank wanted.

So if he just let Matt...wrap his head around things alone, then they could make sense of things together.

“I’m still here, baby.” he said softly. “I’ll be here whenever you’re ready. ‘M not goin’ nowhere.”

*

The bricks were cold on his back, even through his shirt. The floor was hard and solid under him. It felt good. They were solid and unmoving and constant, and he didn’t have to worry about them.

Why was this happening, and why wouldn’t it  _ stop? _ It felt like it had been hours, and he still couldn’t breathe.  _ He was going crazy. _ The silence and the darkness and the confusion, and fear and being so stupid and lost and  _ God, why was this happening?! Why wouldn’t it just stop already?! _

Was he shouting? He wasn’t sure. He couldn’t hear himself, so who knows? How long had he been shouting? He was pounding on the floor, clawing at the bricks, and screaming at the top of his lungs.  _ Why wouldn’t it just stop? _

*

Frank jolted when the first shout came.

That was Matt’s voice. Why was he screaming? What happened?

Frank got up quickly. He banged on the door with heavy fists.

“Matt! Matt, it’s me! Open up! What’s happening?!”

He just kept crying and screaming. And fuck, it sounded like it was just getting worse and worse. He had to get in there. Whatever happened, Matt was hurt or in danger or  _ something! _ Why else would he be screaming like this? Frank had to get in there! He had to get inside!

_ “Matt!” _

No answer; crying, babbled words.

_ “Sorry, Matty, I’m comin’ in!” _

Frank stepped back from Matt’s door. He rammed it hard, shoulder first.  _ Fuck, it didn’t give. _ Again, harder!  _ Why wouldn’t it give?! _ Again! He couldn’t fucking stop, couldn’t just  _ give up, _ not with Matt inside!

The lock was ripped from the frame with a crack and bang. The door flew open, Frank stumbled through.

_ “Matt!” _ he called, running into the apartment.

_ Where was he? Was he okay? Did he hurt himself? Fuck, where the hell was he?! _

_ “Matt!” _

The screaming tapered off to soft sobbing.

When he finally saw Matt, Frank’s heart clenched and hurt. There he was, strong and funny and brilliant and amazing Matt, curled up on the floor, against the wall, sobbing. Both the stools at the kitchen island had tipped, forgotten glasses and coffee mugs left on the counter had been knocked to the floor and shattered, glass and porcelain all over the floor around where Matt huddled. His left hand was almost gushing with blood, some of the shards on the floor were covered in red, he must have nicked it pretty bad to bleed like that. His face was covered in blood too, from where he had tried to dry his tears. He cradled the hand carefully to his chest.

Frank was there in an instant.

“I’m here, Matty, sunshine, I’m right here.” he told him, as he tried to brush away as many of the shards as he could from around blind man. “It’s okay. It’s okay, I’m here.”

But Matt just kept sobbing, kept crying, like Frank wasn’t even there.

“Matt?”

No answer.

Frank reached out to take his uninjured hand. The moment he felt Matt’s skin against his,  _ Matt screamed. _ He screamed and kicked and batted lamely after Frank, like a weak attempt at defending himself.

_ What the hell was happening? _

Could...couldn’t he tell it was Frank? By sound or smell or  _ something, _ however the hell he  _ always _ knew it was Frank.

Frank had to tell him somehow. Tell him it was him, Frank, who’d  _ never _ hurt Matt, who’d always be there for him and with him, who’d never stop protecting him.

He caught the wrist of Matt’s unharmed hand. Matt sobbed and cried, tried pushing Frank away with his bloodied hand and kicked weakly at him. Frank didn’t mind. He dragged the hand to his face. He didn’t stop until Matt’s palm was flat against his cheek, his fingers covered the lid of one closed eye, his thumb rested across Frank’s wonky nose.

Matt froze.

He still heaved and gasped for breath, blank eyes darting back and forth in nothingness. But he felt over Frank’s face, and Frank only waited.

_ “Fra-ank...?” _

The way he said the name was weird; like he wasn’t quite sure how to pronounce it, nor what volume his own voice was.

“Yeah, it’s me. It’s me, baby, I’m right here.”

He dragged Matt’s palm down to his mouth, pressing kisses into it.

_ “I-I ca- I can’t-“ _

His voice was broken and sad, tears poured down his cheeks and turned red when they met bloodstain.

“Can’t what, baby?” Frank asked softly, sweeping the blood-clotted hairs from Matt’s face. “What’s wrong? Tell me wha-“

_ “Hear! Hear, I can’t- i-it’s not wo-workin’!” _

What? Matt...couldn’t hear? How was that possible? He was  _ fine _ just minutes ago, right? What...? Frank didn’t understand, what happened?

Everything in Frank’s head screamed at him  _ protect, guard. _ He knew Matt wouldn’t like it, but as God was Frank’s witness, he’d kill the person responsible for doing this to Matt, whoever they may be. Whoever made Matt this weak, this small, this terrified of the whole world, Frank would tear them to pieces and lay the body at Matt’s feet; he would bring the world to its knees until he found whoever did this.

Matt let out another meek sob, and nothing else mattered in the world.

Frank didn’t let go of Matt’s hand as he got up. If he did, he might as well have dropped off the face of the earth as far as Matt knew, he couldn’t do that too him. Matt’s breaths came in fast and wheezing; he wasn’t doing good. Frank lifted Matt easily, carrying him on his hip like a child. And Matt almost seemed like one. He was sobbing into Frank’s shoulder, gasping for air and clinging to him for dear life even with his injured hand.

Frank grabbed a hand-towel off its hook in the kitchen then headed for the couch. He just needed to calm Matt down, then they could figure this out. He had no idea how they would do it, but they’d do it. They’d get through it.  _ This. _ Whatever this was.

Matt whined at the pain when Frank wrapped the towel around his hand. He could stitch it later. They laid down; Matt, with his back pressed to the back of the couch and his face buried in Frank’s chest, and Frank wrapped around him, hugging him tight and rubbing slow circles into Matt’s back. It wasn’t comfortable, by any means. The couch was too small, cushions too lumpy, leather too squeaky. But it would do. For now, it would do.

He hushed the blind man softly, even though he knew he couldn’t hear it. It felt like the right thing to do.

*

It felt like there was a noose around his neck, strangling him slowly. It felt like it was getting tighter and tighter with every ragged breath he took.

One of Frank’s hands was petting his head, the other stroked his back

Why? Why, why, why was Frank wasting his time on stupid, stupid, dumb, stupid Matt? Weak Matt, who was blind and deaf and dumb and too stupid to take care of himself, too scared to defend himself, curling into Frank’s warm embrace like it could and would protect him from the world. Stupid Matt, didn’t deserve to be protected and cared about; too dumb to be any good, too weak to be any use.

He breathed Frank in and let the scent fill him. It was hard to find the scent, even with his head buried in Frank’s chest. It was muted and distant somehow, like his nostrils were plugged up with vinegar-soaked cotton balls. But those small traces, those far away hints of a scent he knew so well and worshiped so fully, they were enough. They were enough to fill him up and sate his fear.

He could smell Frank and feel him, and he knew that he was safe there. Blind and deaf and dumb as he was, he was still safe in Frank’s arms, because somehow Frank cared enough to protect him.  _ Somehow _ Frank, amazing and strong and brave and smart and wonderful Frank, cared about him. Frank, who had been through so much and lost more than a lot people ever got to  _ have _ in the first place, still stood and he still cared and he still wrapped himself around Matt and swore to protect him.

_ A heartbeat. _

A heartbeat, somewhere far away. Matt breathed Frank in, and the heartbeat came closer. He breathed in again, and it moved  _ closer _ still.

It was like coming alive.

Fire flickered, a light in the distance. As he breathed, the light got brighter. The fire spread its arms and enveloped the world. The fire caught on; it caught on to the darkness like a flame would kindling. It spread and ate and consumed and illuminated the world, until all he saw was his world on fire. He could breathe again.

Frank’s heartbeat and the man’s soft hushing, and every other sound in the world came back to him. He could hear. He could hear again. It was back. He thanked God, and he prayed, because  _ it was back. _ It hadn’t left him.

He exhaled a breath of immeasurable relief. It was okay.

“Matt?”

He swallowed the lump of fear that sat in his throat.

“Frank...”

Frank hugged him tighter, kissing his head almost frantically.

“Jesus Christ, Matty, baby, you scared the crap outta me, what happened?” the man asked softly, not letting up on the embrace. “Oh, God, please don’t ever do somethin’ like that again.”

Matt wanted to say something. He wanted to talk and tell Frank he was okay and he was  _ so happy _ Frank had been there to protect him. He wanted to open his mouth and say a hundred different things. But his voice felt like it had left him. It felt almost like his hearing, like it had been stolen away from him and he just...had to wait. Sit and wait, in unbearable silence, for it to come back to him.

Frank pet his back again, and kissed his head, and held him tight still.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, sunshine. Just...breathe. Talk later. ’M right here with ya. I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

*

Matt flexed his fingers slowly. The stitches felt okay in his palm.

“I’m right over here.” Frank said from the kitchen. “Be back in just a sec!”

It was actually a little nice to hear that. To hear his voice even when he wasn’t right next to Matt. It made it feel like Frank wasn’t  _ out of sight. _ Like Matt’s hearing hadn’t betrayed him, and dropped him into darkness again. With Frank’s voice there, the world was still on fire.

Frank hurried over, though, and sat down next to Matt on the couch. One of his hands came to rest on Matt, stroking slow, wide circles over his back. Matt could hear the glass of water, and was somehow so infinitely relieved to recognize the sound. The glass felt good in his hand. He drank slow and deep. He set the glass aside on the coffee table once he emptied it.

He leaned into Frank, and Frank gladly wrapped his arm around him, holding him close.

“What happened, baby?” the marine whispered. “I was so scared for you, sunshine, ‘cause...I didn’t know what was happenin’. Didn’t know how to help.”

“It’s...nothing.” Matt said. “It’s over now. I’m fine.”

Frank sighed softly, pressing another gentle kiss to Matt’s hair.  _ “Please, _ baby...you were scared as hell. I could see it. And I just...didn’t know how to help.” Frank whispered to him. “That’s all I wanna do, sunshine. Just wanna help. Even if all you need to do is  _ talk _ about this...I’m right here, baby.”

Matt took a deep breath.

He  _ was _ scared. Probably more scared than he’d ever been in his life. He didn’t want it to happen again. He was blind, yes, but he was also  _ not blind _ in a way. And having  _ that _ ripped away from him so suddenly...it was terrifying. It was probably the only time in his life where he felt as blind as he looked.

He wasn’t even sure  _ why _ it happened this time. He knew why it happened the last time, the first time, but now...he couldn’t say why. They were fighting, and...Frank said that thing. He said...he called Matt  _ stupid _ and it just...cut him so deep.

Why? Why did it hurt so bad? That single word that held no true weight, how could it stab into him like a knife and rip out all that sat inside him?

Maybe it was just him. His  _ fear. _ This undying  _ fear _ of being weak. Of failing. Of being...stupid and dumb and  _ blind. _ Everyone always said that to him. When he was a kid, at least. Told him he  _ had _ to be stupid if he was blind. Didn’t make sense, no, but to the mind of a kid, sense didn’t matter much, he supposed. Then as he got older, they told him he was lucky to be so smart, to be so pretty. And they didn’t say it, but it was implied, that if he wasn’t all those things,  _ pretty and smart and funny and witty, _ no one would care about him. Because he  _ was _ blind. To them, he was blind. That meant he was a  _ burden. _ Someone that had to be looked after and cared for, and coddled like a child,  _ like a stupid child who couldn’t navigate the world on his own. _

And...maybe it was just Frank. What he said, how he said it.

Frank had never made him feel stupid. Never made him feel blind. It never felt like Frank pitied him for his blindness. But then he said that word.  _ Called him that word. _ And for the first time, it felt like Frank thought he was a burden.

“My hearing. It just... _ stopped.” _ he choked out. “I was...angry. And scared. I guess. And it...stopped.”

Frank inhaled a shivering breath, as though on the verge of tears on Matt’s behalf. “What scared you?” he asked. “Was it...was it  _ me? _ ‘Cause...I was angry?”

Matt swallowed that knot in his gullet again. The one that made it feel as though his vocal cords had been woven into braids, and his voice had been stolen.

“A little.”

The marine exhaled that breath, just as shivering again. He hugged Matt tighter.

“I’m...I’m so sorry.” he said. “I didn’t...didn’t mean to scare you, baby. I’m sorry. God, I’m sorry.”

“You...you said...you called me stupid.”

Frank kissed his head again, seemingly trying to press all his love into the kiss.

“I’m sorry.  _ I’m so sorry. _ I didn’t...I didn’t mean it, baby. Swear to you, sunshine,  _ I’m _ the stupid one. Yellin’ all this  _ shit _ without thinkin’...I  _ never _ want you to think I think you’re stupid.” he said. “You’re...shit, Matty, you’re the smartest guy I ever met. Didn’t mean to...make you feel like you’re anythin’ other than that.”

Matt was crying again. The tears were pouring down his cheeks, and he could feel that wet lump return to his throat, the one that choked away his ability to speak and made it near to impossible to breathe. Frank’s fingers smoothed over his face, wiping away the tears.

“How did this happen, baby?” the marine asked. “What could do that shit to your hearing? Did you hit your head when we were out? Maybe you should go to the hospital. Just to...make sure. And...make sure it don’t happen again.”

Matt breathed as deep as he could. “It...doesn’t happen. It’s only happened once before.” he said softly.

Frank kissed his head for the hundredth time. “When?” he asked.

“Frank, it doesn’t matte-”

_ “It matters!”_

The way he tensed made Matt’s heart skip with, God help him,  _ fear. _ Was he afraid of Frank?

The marine stopped himself. He seemed to force himself to relax again, and take a deep breath.

“It...it matters. I can’t... _ please.” _ he begged. “Tell me.”

Matt’s eyes fell closed with sheer exhaustion. He pulled away from Frank. He was glad Frank didn’t try to keep him from moving. They sat next to each other on the couch, not touching.

“When you shot me in the head. A while after.”

A quivering breath left Frank. His whole body seemed to shake with it. The air filled with the a salty scent he knew well. Frank sniffed, wiping his nose and his cheeks quickly. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. He buried his face in his hands.

“I...I did-?”

His voice was muffled by his hands. He noticed this himself too, though, and removed them from his mouth. They clasped tightly together in stead, knuckles groaning with the pressure and strain. He was  _ angry. _

“I did this?  _ I _ did this to you?”

“Frank...”

Matt wasn’t sure what to say. He couldn’t defend what happened. They both knew exactly what happened. They fought, Frank had a gun, Frank shot Matt in the head, Matt survived.

Some small part of him wanted to say that it wasn’t Frank’s fault. That...it was an accident, that he hadn’t meant to hurt Matt. But those were all lies. It  _ was _ Frank’s fault. It  _ wasn’t _ an accident.  _ That shot was mean to kill, _ and it was only by luck and by the Grace of Melvin’s skill and handiwork that Matt had survived.

Frank slid off the couch to the floor, going to his knees before Matt. He took Matt’s unhurt hands in his and kissed the knuckles, resting his head in Matt’s lap.

_ “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry, Matty. Forgive me. Please, forgive me. If you can.” _

Matt was stunned.

Frank cried into his lap, kissed his hand, gripped aimlessly at the legs of his sweatpants.

He couldn’t do this.

He couldn’t...couldn’t handle this.

Matt wriggled his hand out of Frank’s grip, pushed him away so he could get up. Frank stayed on the floor, sniveling and wiping fruitlessly at his cheeks. The blind man walked away. He just...needed a little space. Just some room to breathe, and think, and figure out what to do with Frank and with himself and with... _ them. _

_ “I’m so sorry, baby, I-I didn’t- I dunno what to do.” _ Frank said, almost whimpering the words.  _ “I’m sorry, baby, please, I’m so sorry.” _

Matt ran his hands through his hair. He hissed when the motion tugged slightly at the fresh stitches hidden under a gauze wrap.

He wanted to...

He wasn’t sure what he wanted.

A part of him wanted to forgive Frank right away, pick him up off the floor and hold him and tell him it was okay. But...another part of him screamed at him that he couldn’t,  _ he just couldn’t _ do that. Couldn’t forgive so easily.

Frank had tried to kill him. Though in a way, Matt didn’t hold it against him; at the time, Frank had considered Matt,  _ Daredevil, _ an enemy, someone who stood in the way of what  _ had _ to be done. And they had been fighting. Matt had been defending himself, and Frank had too. In  _ that _ way, Matt couldn’t and wouldn’t hold it against him. What happened was regrettable. But...it was, in some way, somehow,  _ forgivable. _

And yet Matt still couldn’t forgive.

Couldn’t forgive Frank for  _ that _ night, couldn’t forgive him for  _ this _ night.

Both times, Frank had been the reason for the most terrifying experience of Matt’s life. Both times, Frank had caused Matt to be...seemingly incurably afraid. He had turned the world into a monster around Matt; a monster that chewed him up and swallowed him down and killed him slowly with dread and horror.

“I...I was gonna say I forgive you, but...I don’t think I can do that.”

Besides the soft snivels, Frank was silent.

“I love you...but because of you, I was more afraid and more powerless, _more_ _blind,_ than I’ve ever been before. And...I think I need some...time. To think. About things. About... _us.”_

Frank exhaled a quiet sob.

“I think...you should leave.”

Matt shuffled into the bedroom. The door closed softly behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song used in the fic:  
> The Whistler, by The White Buffalo

Frank had been in the apartment during the day, while Matt was working. He knew it before he’d even gotten upstairs when he got home. Mrs. Kozlowski, who lived on the first floor, stopped Matt on the stairs and told him  _ ‘the repairman’ _ had been by to fix his door, and had left the keys with her, for safe keeping until Matt came home, and goodness, you should have met that boy, what a lovely thing he was, so polite, even offered to take a look at the drain in her kitchen sink, oh, you know, Matthew, the one that always clogs up, and he almost seemed happy to fix it for her,  _ for free. _

And well, Matt hadn’t called anyone to get his door fixed yet, so it could really only have been one person, couldn’t it?

He smelled Frank too, as he moved up the stairs. Frank’s scent had started to fade in the few days he had been away from the place, but this trace of him was recent. As in,  _ Frank-was-here-today-_levels of recent. It was joined by the smell of fresh wood and polished metal, and grease. The frame, as Matt ran his hands over it, seemed as if new. It seemed like Frank had replaced that whole section of the frame, as well as  both the lock and the deadbolt. And the hinges had even been greased up.

He needed to talk to Frank.  _ No, _ not about the door or the repairs to it. Okay, maybe a little bit about that to, but mainly about...well, everything else. About  _ that night, _ and everything that happened. He didn’t exactly  _ want _ to talk about it, but...they needed to. It wasn’t something that could just be left untouched.

*

Sometimes Matt really wished Frank wasn’t as good at hiding a he was. It made him really difficult to find when he needed to be found.

Matt had searched Hell’s Kitchen from end to end and found nothing. The sun would be coming up in an hour or so. He couldn’t be out for much longer. He had to get home before the cover of night was pulled away from him.

He froze.

What was that sound?

_ Whistling? _

Who was whistling? Where was it coming from?

It was hard to pin down the sound. It wasn’t very loud, which meant it was easily lost under the noise of the Kitchen.

The whistling tapered off into humming instead. He didn’t know the tune, but he’d know that voice anywhere.

_ Frank. _

Matt focused on his voice.  


Frank was...inside, somewhere. An attic, it seemed like. It was...a small room. He was on the floor. There was something on the floor infront of him. A gun, a big one, but it was in pieces. He was cleaning it.

_ “This time is different, _

_ It’s not like the times before.” _

__

He was singing.

_ “I crossed my heart, that I won’t kill no more. _

_ Jesus watch over me, keep my anger at home.” _

__

His voice was raspy and low. It didn’t seem as though he was paying much mind to anything but the gun he was working on.

_ “You better bless these wicked hands, _

_ ‘Cause they got a mind of their own.” _

He hummed for a moment, then stopped to sip from a bottle, or maybe a glass.

_ “The Devil whispers in my ear, ‘it’s time for your curtain call’ _

_ So I dress myself on up, with alcohol,” _

__

The metal clattered slightly as the pieces of the weapon came together in his hands.

_ “Step aside, step aside, oh, let the whistler through, _

_ There really ain’t no help at all, for folks like me and you.” _

 

Matt liked listening to his voice.

The words felt like they hit a little too close to come for Matt’s comfort, but that didn’t change the voice that sang them. He wondered why he hadn’t heard Frank sing before; even if it was just something like what he just overheard. Something muted and half under his breath, something his mind might have wandered to doing to keep itself occupied while his hands worked, something he hadn’t put all that much thought into before starting.

*

Frank had long since stopped singing when Matt reached his window. He still whistled now and then, absentmindedly, while his focus was still set on his weapon.

His heart rate spiked when Matt knocked on the glass. He calmed again though, when he realized who was there to see him. He also all but threw his gun down and scrambled to get to his feet. Matt waited quietly as the window opened for him.

“Hey, sunshine.”

“Castle.”

The marine inhaled sharply at that. At how distant Matt was being.

“Let me in?”

Frank pushed the window wide open and stepped back. He shuffled away and sat back down on the floor with his gun. His hands went back to it, almost as if he needed something to keep from shaking. Matt closed the window behind himself as he came inside.

The attic was smaller than he had expected. It was empty too. There was a sink mounted in the wall near the door, which lead to a stairwell, a cot in the corner, a humming old fridge that smelled like rust, and not much more.

He removed his helmet. He sat down on the edge of the cot. Frank seemed to be pointedly  _ not looking _ at him, head turned low and toward what he was occupying himself with.

“You fixed the door.” Matt said.

Frank cleared his throat.

“I broke it, I fix it.”  


Matt nodded to himself.

“That song. The one you were singing. What was it?”

Frank shrugged. His hands stilled.

“Was on the radio. Got stuck in my head.”

That was a lie. Matt didn’t have to hear his heartbeat to know that. It was in his voice. He didn’t push, though. That wasn’t why he was there.

“I...still don’t forgive you.”

Frank nodded, and cleared his throat again.

“Didn’t expect you would.”

He finished his drink, which Matt could now tell was a cheap beer. He set his weapon down on the floor again then got up and shuffled over to the fridge.

“Want one?”

“No.”

He grabbed a new bottle, popping the cap off with the corner of the fridge door. He didn’t sit down again.

“Why you here?”

“Because we need to talk. About everything.”

Matt’s hand still hurt when he ran his fingers through his hair. The stitches were only a few days old. That night...it felt like a lifetime ago.

“Don’t know what to say. Don’t know what you wanna hear.”

“I want you to say that you won’t kill again. And I want you to mean it.”

Frank exhaled a sigh.

“We’ve had this fight a hundred times already. You know I can’t make that promise.”

Matt took a deep breath. He wasn’t going to start shouting. He wasn’t going to cry. If Frank wanted things this way, then this was the way things would be.

“Then I can’t be with you.”

He grabbed his helmet and got up. He was halfway to the window when Frank grabbed his arm to stop him.

“Don’t.  _ Please. _ Don’t do that.”

“It’s your choice. I...I can’t sleep with a murderer. Not anymore. I can’t...I can’t let a murderer be  _ inside me.” _

“Say the thing, sunshine. Please. I...need to hear it.”

Matt had to swallow dryly and hope that, somehow, that filled the pit he could feel growing in his gut.

“I love you. And you love me too.”

“I do. Ain’t brave ‘nough to say it for myself, but... _I do.” _

He let go of Matt’s arm. He moved over to his cot and took a seat. He sipped his beer. He ran his free hand through his hair and over his face.

“I’m...real. With you. Feels like I’m real. Feels like I’m a...a  _ person. _ When we’re together. Like I can...I can be who I was. Back then.”

“The person you were back then didn’t kill without remorse.”

He took a deep breath. Matt did the same. This was a lot harder than Matt had anticipated. It hurt like hell. God, it hurt.

“You have to make a choice, Frank.” he said, turning to face the man. 

It made no difference to Matt, but he knew Frank always preferred seeing his face when they talked. He supposed he could give him that.

“Either you stop killing. Or...or we’re done.”

His hands felt restless. His fingers itched. He wanted to do something. He wanted to run away. He wanted to collapse and cry, and he wanted to scream and yell at Frank, and he wanted to go to sleep.

Frank didn’t say anything.

Okay. If he couldn’t make that choice, then...that was that.

“You can...pick up your stuff at the apartment today. I’ll be in court at ten, so the place is all yours for a few hours. I’m throwing out anything you leave behind.”

He made it all the way back to the window before Frank said anything.

“I don’t wanna promise. ’Cause I know I ain’t gonna be able to keep it. I can promise all you like, I can promise anythin’ you want, but...that ain’t gonna change  _ what I am.” _

_ “Then quit.” _ Matt said as he crossed the small room again.

He fell on his knees in front of Frank, head turned up as if to look him in the eye.

_ “Quit. _ Quit being the Punisher, quit being this person and just be...be Frank again.”

Frank shook his head.

“’S not how it works, sunshine. You know that.”

“I’ll quit too, quit being Daredevil. I’ve...wanted to quit. Since...since Elektra. And you’ll quit. And we’ll just... _be.” _

“You...you really wanna do that?”

“Yes. No. I...I don’t know. But...we’ve both lost a lot. I do love you. I don’t wanna lose this too. I...I don’t forgive you for everything that’s happened, but...we can get there. Can’t we? If we...quit.”

They were both crying.

It almost felt ridiculous, to be sitting there and crying together. But it felt good too. Frank was scared of losing  _ this _ too. It wasn’t just Matt.

“It’ll take time, I know, but...if you’re not going anywhere, I’m not either.”

Frank used the hem of his t-shirt to dry his cheeks quickly.

“You, uh...you sure you wanna do that? With a murderer?”

Matt shook his head.

“I’m not sure of anything. But I’d rather try,  _ and find out, _ than to give up right away.”

Frank nodded.

“Okay. I quit.”

“Then I quit, too.”

“Say it again.”

“I quit.”

“I quit.”

“I quit.”

“I quit.”

“I love you. You love me too.”

“I do.”

Frank leaned forward. The kiss was chaste. He didn’t want to push too hard, too far, all at once.

The cot was too small for them both to lay on it comfortably. They had to lay close together, Frank wrapped around Matt like a second blanket. Matt couldn’t stay for long, either. The sun was going to come up soon; he had to get home and prepare for court. But for the moment, spooning with his boyfriend seemed like the only thing in the world worth doing. Frank held him tightly, like he was afraid Matt was a dream, a mirage that would fade away if he let go of him for a single second.

“Can I ask you somethin’?” Frank whispered.

Matt hummed. “What is it?”

“Did you call me  _ urban warfare crime daddy?” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this fic takes place before The Defenders, and maybe a few weeks after the end of Daredevil Season 2. 'Forgive Me, Father, fore I Have Sinned' is the first fic in the series that takes place AFTER The Defenders.
> 
> This timeline is getting hard to keep track of

**Author's Note:**

> sorry
> 
>  
> 
> might do a second chapter, if y'all want it  
> EDIT:  
> ok chapter 2 coming, because of a few comments abt it and because i cannot live with leaving our boys in such a state <3


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